The Perished Titans
by St Pangolin
Summary: Kronos is defeated. I could tell you about the story of the heroes who travelled on the Argo II to the ancient lands, and defeated the Giants. Those who prevented Loki bringing about Ragnarok. Those who defeated Apophis and defeated Chaos. But where's the fun in that? What of the hidden demigods, the unsung heroes? This is how they saved their world. Rated T in case.
1. Chapter 1: Ain't That A Kick In The Head

"So, our new head councillors will be; Gabby Price, George Aguilar, Percy Jackson, Miranda Gardiner, Clarisse La Rue, Annabeth Chase, Will Solace, Thalia Grace, Jake Mason, Drew Tanaka, Travis and Connor Stoll, Pollux Lett, Nico DiAngelo, Butch Walker, Clovis Aserinsky, Kai Fredericks, Laurel and Holly Victor, Paolo Montes, Felix and Felicia Pax and Lou Ellen Blackstone." A slight murmur of respect at the centaur's ability to not forget all of these. "Does anybody wish contradict me?"

A few half-hearted protests from the new heads sat around the table; mumbled groanings from those unprepared or unwilling to take on the responsibility, worried musings of those who would never be around to govern their siblings, quietly outraged complaints from those unwilling to have someone leading a cabin. But inevitably, nobody said a word.

Chiron continued, acting as if they'd all finally agreed on something, knowing full well they hadn't. "And next -"

"Sir?"

"Annabeth?"

"What about the others?" Annabeth enquired gingerly.

"Hmmm?"

"Well, we're the only ones here and you've just made every single one of us a councillor. How would you know we're the best choices? It's not like we'd disagree with you, that might mean any of us getting demoted," she continued, complaining only slightly.

"That's because, quite frankly, nobody else would want to be a head councillor. We've just had to assign fifteen new ones, and five of those are replacing… casualties. Nobody would want to take the risk," was Chiron's brilliantly improvised response.

"So nobody else has been nominated because you assume we're the only ones willing to take the job?"

"Yes. Do you have any more questions?"

At that, Annabeth fell silent, for once incapable of finding a counter-argument. The logic somehow inexplicably held up. It would, after four thousand years of resolving disputes. "We've started work on the new cabins," her preordained response to any questions, was all she could come up with.

"Excellent! And Thalia. When do the -"

"The Hunters leave tomorrow at first light. Lady Artemis will be joining us." Thalia smiled wearily, her grin rather forced at the prospect of another's day hunt lost, another dull gathering she had no need to participate in.

"Very good. And Lou Ellen, is -"

"Hecate's still coming to a decision. She thinks she'll accept," came the young girl, breaking out of her subdued rapture for a second to deliver it to the teacher.

"Blackmail'll do that," muttered Kai darkly.

"Kai!"

"I'm sorry for being the one to point it out, but it's hardly fair, is it? She's lost enough children and now we're willing to kill another one just to get her favour. Thought you would have been the one to point that out."

Lou Ellen knew she should have been, but she wasn't going to let him know that. "You wanna go back to them? Fine."

"I don't. I'm just trying to make a point. Trying to choose the least bad side here. Don't get caught up with good and evil."

"I'm sure this is all very useful, but can I suggest we leave this conversation for a later date?" Chiron sighed at yet another argument Kai found himself in. "We have a meeting to finish."

Chiron was pleased to see Lou Ellen give a nod, but Kai remained silent, earning a hard glare from his bickering partner. Really, the boy seemed to make trouble for himself at every opportunity. If he didn't try to be so wise, he might actually get somewhere. He was being a smart-ass and he'd get into trouble one day because of it.

"Right. Very good, you two," Chiron lied half-halfheartedly, making no real attempt to hide his deceit and seeing no need to. "And that only leaves the matter of Rachel. Have we had any further developments?"

Everyone waited for him to realise exactly where Rachel was.

Seymour the leopard snarled.

Someone coughed.

Dean Martin started singing the next song.

Percy reached over and turns the CD player off, unable to bear the singing any more.

Making a mental note to invite Rachel the the meeting as soon as she and Apollo are done, Chiron continued. "And, I think that's everything. Very good. I'll tell you if we need anything else. So -"

"Chiron, are you not forgetting something?" said Gabby Dryden. She had heard the phrase "I think that's everything" or variations on it countless times, and she had soon realised that it was never true. It wasn't an announcement that everything was done; it was an invitation to point out anything the speaker had forgotten. And for once in her life, Gabby was the challenger.

"Eh? No, no, no, Gabby, that's it. We're done," came the reply, Chiron getting angry now. "There's nothing else to discuss. Now if you'll excuse me -"

"Are you not worried about the other Titans? They're still out there."

"I think if they were going to make a move they'd have made it by now. And besides, they've just lost their commander. They're pretty much done."

"What if they're biding their time?" There's still a lot of them out there."

"Kronos is dead. Iapetus lost his memory. Atlas is imprisoned. Hyperion was turned into a tree," shouted Chiron, with the fury of a man who cannot be made to change his mind by any power on earth.

"And what about the others? Isn't is a bit weird that they just disappeared?"

"Correct me if I am wrong, but would they do anything now that four of their greatest soldiers are no longer competent enough to do anything?" And now there's something else… Self-pity? Panic? Self-deception? A sensitive subject to trespass on. But why? When would there be a straight answer for once? "Now. I think that's everything!"

And now, nobody dares become the challenger.

That's not to say there won't be challenge…


	2. Chapter 2: Say You'll Stay Till Tomorrow

"Is everyone here?" enquired George, only slightly pompous. He was definitely enjoying being in charge a bit too much, but he knew he probably couldn't get away with it.

"How many people did we invite, George?" replied Gabby, wearily for what seemed like the fortieth time, but was probably only the second.

"Twelve? Probably more. It seemed like more."

"We invited four people, George. And how many people are here now?"

"You know, people like you are the reason I hate my life."

"So... Just like Hera?"

"This is the problem! You, Mom... I dunno, Michael Jordan... You just won't let me have my moment. You really do take the fun out of it sometimes."

"Once you two have finished, are we actually gonna do something tonight or will this just slowly descend into a rom-com? 'Cause I'd like to leave before that happens," whines the third member of the group; Rowan Baumgartner, possibly the most antagonizing member of the group. The sort of person who could stick his massive snout into anyone's business and sass his way out again purely through his determination and pigheadedness to do so. In all honesty, he was only here because he'd overheard George suggest it to Gabby, and George didn't want to risk anybody spreading the secret, let alone his mildly overbearing, questionably trustworthy best friend.

"Alright, alright, alright! Jeez..." complained George, regretting his life choices yet again. "Welcome, everyone to the first meeting of the... The..."

"The Mysterious Benedict Society?" chimed in Makayla, a Cyclops and the youngest of the group at only eight.

"If I'd have known you'd become obsessed, I wouldn't have let you read that."

"The League of Amazingly Magical Beings Cooperating Happily On Purpose?" she suggested, still struggling to get a handle on how to talk those much older than herself. The balance of humour and austerity was still being gauged and Mak managed to cycle through both in the space of minutes. This conversation was not actually a conversation, this was an experiment.

"Not entirely sure how true that one is, Mak. Or were you actually trying to call us all L.A.M.B.C.H.O.P.?"

"The Avengers?"

"Think that might be copyrighted."

"One Direction?"

"If you're gonna say things like that, I'm voting to be called LAMBCHOP," moaned Gabby.

"Fine. If nobody else has any better ideas?" Given that the only person left to protest was most likely to vote LAMBCHOP, there was no contest. So George pompoused his way back into relevance. "Welcome to the first meeting of LAMBCHOP. We are gathered here today to discuss to problem of the remaining Titans. Chiron has, as you may..." as George continued in his barely imperious manner, Gabby leaned over to Rowan.

"Is he always like this, or is it just a one-off or something?" she whispered in a way that she probably thought was discreet and surreptitious.

"No, he's always like this when he's in a good mood. There literally nothing between Grumble and Grandiose for him."

"So, does anyone have any ideas for our course of action?"

"Easy. We go do the thing," The Gabby Plannerbot™ shrugged, not needing to listen to any of the conversation to make any useful contribution. Part talent, part experience, part blind luck.

"Chiron wouldn't allow it. You saw how he was. Besides, would he really choose us to do it? You and Makayla have literally just arrived in the last three weeks. Not all that experienced."

The Gabby Plannerbot™ absorbed this new viewpoint with interest. The data received from George's monologue now interpreted, Gabby Plannerbot could continue. "I... didn't mean getting Chiron to approve it. I meant..." Plannerbot™ searched her enormous database for a relevant solution. "I meant doing it ourselves. Without Chiron."

George frowned. George was not a Plannerbot™. This was not in George's coding. "Like... go by ourselves?" he supplied. The best he could come up with at that moment. "That's the exact same problem. He won't let us."

"I was thinking... maybe we don't tell Chiron. Just us four," Plannerbot™ decided.

"Running away? What is this, some kind of cheesy fanfiction?" smirked Rowan, winking at the author very indiscreetly.

Before George could retort, the stable door opened and a head emerged through it.

"What are you doing up here?" enquired Malcolm Pace, genuinely curious.

"Oh, nothing much," sniffed the aggrieved Rowan. "Just calling ourselves lambchops and planning on running away to check on the Titans."

A pause. Malcolm, as smart as he was, was undoubtedly just a tiny bit thrown by the situation. "You have about two minutes before that harpies notice that you left the lights on in a building with open windows."

"Woah, woah, woah. They're not going to..."

"Yep. Kai's disappeared so Chiron's been forced to assume he's run away. He sent me and a few others to look and given the harpies orders to eat anyone else out of bed on sight. You now have" - here Malcolm paused to consider - "One minute forty-five seconds to make a decision? Thereabouts. If you're running away you're running away now. You really don't have much choice in the matter."

"Okay. All in favour -" George started, but Gabby cut him off. "George, we don't have time. We either stay and get eaten or leave and maybe survive.

"And in case you hadn't noticed, we're not in any state to fight harpies," interjected Rowan.

"We don't have a choice, George," Mak solemnly proclaimed, once again cycling back to seriousness.

"One minute thirty. Look, I can bring you some stuff if you really need it," offered Malcolm. "You're not going to have time to get anything. I am. Just stay outside the border for a few hours and I'll bring you some backpacks and clothes and stuff."

"Why are you sticking your neck out for us, Malcolm? What's in it for you?" enquired Gabby.

"Isn't not seeing four kids die good enough for you?" Malcolm enquired softly, trying to avoid the question in such a way nobody would notice. "Crunch time, George. You're the only one holding anybody back."

"Why... why... why am I the only one holding anybody back?" exploded George. "I don't want to have to be responsible. I don't want to have to run away. So why am I the one who decides?"

"Because everyone else has already decided. One minute."

"Fine! We go!" shouts George, not for one moment expecting his order to be carried out. Why would anyone ever go to him to decide so much as what to have for breakfast, anyway? He just wants to make a decision so someone'll protest and they'll make the decision and he won't have to.

"Good. The harpies won't go any further than the barrier, so you'll have fifty seconds or so to get past it. I'll come and bring your stuff as soon as I can. Fifty seconds. Go."

And much to his horror, George finds that people will actually do what he says. If he were to say beg they would not only beg but also come up with an argument as to why they should have the thing. If he were to say roll over they would not only roll over, but also do cartwheels and a piece of interpretive dance. And if he were to say run away they would not only run but waste precious time going back to drag him behind them.

As he was pulled through the mud at record speed by Rowan, he had only one question. _If nobody else has any better ideas_ _?_

 **Please, please review and tell me what you want me to put in. I have some, but I'm kinda running out of ideas.**


	3. Chapter 3: She's Leaving Home

"Clothes, obviously, a flashlight, a roadmap or two and a compass, some toiletries for when you get the chance and I think I managed to squeeze a sword somewhere in there? Not sure how good it is though. Didn't want to risk stealing another. I thought you had a penknife? Do you have that on you or -" enquired Malcolm.

"In my pocket," interrupted Makayla, as Gabby sat nodding approvingly at Mak's question, and disapprovingly at George and Rowan, seeing how fast Rowan could make a daisy grow. "Is there a first aid kit?"

"I managed to scrape some stuff together. Not much, but it should be enough. I'm presuming you'll be able to find everything else, but I packed some food just in case."

"Great. I had some money, did you get it?"

"You lot had thirty-eight dollars sixty-three altogether. And now I'm coming with you."

"Seriously? You just want to come? You don't think that'll look suspicious? At all?" complained Gabby incredulously.

"You're surprised," concluded Malcolm for no real reason. "You thought I would do the shallow thing and go back. You thought I wouldn't want to be involved in five demigods running away on the same night. You're absolutely right."

"Is this some kind of sick joke?"

"Very possible. I reckon I'm as shallow as it gets. I wouldn't come if I didn't have to," Malcolm mused, struggling to stay calm, looking past Gabby. "Gabby, why hasn't George complained about having to run away?"

And as Gabby turned around, Malcolm continued "And that's why you need me to come."

Because now Gabby saw exactly what Malcolm had been looking at. George was laughing and egging Rowan on. Rowan was making daisies grow, trying to see how long it took. Makayla was glaring disapprovingly at them. George laughed. Rowan grew. Mak glared. And nothing else. George laughed. Rowan grew. Mak glared. They didn't look up or say anything. George laughed. Rowan grew. Mak glared. Like it was scripted. Like they were lines they had to learn. They simply laughed and grew and glared.

"What is this?" Gabby whispered.

"Oh, yeah, because of course you wouldn't be able to see it."

"You're the one who knows what to look for!"

"They're Gorgades. The men are fast, the women are hairy. You do what they want or die, basically. They're usually found near the Garden of the Hesperides but nobody's ever been too sure..."

 **A/N: I didn't make these things up. The ancient Greeks seriously believed the Canary Isles were home to hairy ladies.**

"And how do you stop them?"

"I... don't really know. The stories all seemed to focus on how hairy they were. There really wasn't much else. Weaknesses, where they live, what they want. Philosophers have been guessing for decades. Nobody knows anything about them."

"So our options are?"

"Find the others and run."

"And I presume you won't let us go on our own?"

"You were out here for eight hours before something attacked and you don't even know why. You wanna survive? Let me come."

"Why are you sticking with us?"

"They won't have had time to take the others too far," Malcolm declared. "The moment you find them, run and don't stop."

* * *

"Are we friends, Rowan?" enquired George, no humour in his voice.

"No. I secretly hate you," deadpanned Rowan, before bursting out laughing. "Of course. We're friends. Maybe not best friends, but yeah, friends. I'm pretty much the only person that could put up with you and you're the only person that could put up with me."

"Is that it? That's the only reason we're friends?"

Rowan wasn't ready for this. "Well... yeah. I like knowing you. You're funny sometimes... and you actually invited me too the meeting thing." He fell silent, both boys trying to find a reason why they were actually friends. Not much sprung to mind. Even for those that had seen George's private, half-decent, 'No Unauthorised Personnel' side, it was hard enough. "Do you really need a reason? It wouldn't change the fact we were friends, right? You'd still..." And neither boy knew what to say.

"Remember that time we fought that empousa?" George awkwardly diverted the conversation.

"Oh, yeah! And you got her with the false teeth?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's an unconventional murder weapon, but..."

"You know, when most people go for walks on the beach they pick up shells."

"Well, I know you tried your best, but you cannot compare to my awesome powers of tooth-wielding."

"You know, I can't believe I'm telling you this, but I probably should've a long time ago."

"What, Rowan?"

"I managed to take one of their daggers. It's in my hand right now George. And I didn't tell you for four hours," laughed Rowan, somewhat amazed at his own stupidity.

"Jeez, Rowan! We've been hanging by our feet for four hours and only now you tell me you have a dagger?" For a moment, George meant every word going through his head. But the moment passed as they always do, and he scolded himself for thinking those things. "So, are you gonna get us out or what?"

"Ah. Yeah! Sure. Sure, sure, sure." And after a moment's hesitation, just a moment to make George question him, Rowan began to saw through the ropes. Thick. Tough. I must have taken him a good five minutes. But Rowan wasn't in a rush. He wasn't worried about the things reappearing. He had been hung upside down in a cave by a literal hairy scary fairy. It couldn't be much worse.

Rowan was halfway through pretending to leave when George saw what he was going. "Uh, Rowan? You going to get me down or what?"

"Oh, yeah!" deadpanned Rowan. "I knew I'd forgotten something."

As Rowan cut George's ropes he began to hum something. Every so often George would silence him with a stare usually reserved for arch-enemies and certain green vegetables. For a while, it would work, but Rowan was not to be deterred.

"You do realise someone could hear you?" hissed George at last.

"I want to be ready. If I'm going down, I want to go down humming the Beatles," replied the smaller boy. "And besides, it's a pretty perfect situation. For the song, I mean. Not the... Yeah."

"Y'know, I'm not sure whether you're the Sassy Friend or the Awkward Friend."

And it was at that exact moment, seconds too late that Rowan realised his mistake. It wasn't George's fault he was backed up against the cave wall. But Rowan had decided that the cut the bonds around George's wrists off, he would reach round and cut them. The overall effect was rather reminiscent of Tobey McGuire's Peter Parker about to kiss Kirsten Dunst's Mary Jane. And although the boys were close, and at least one of them had a crush on Chris Evans, they weren't exactly... Attracted to each other in the sense that they would get desperate enough to go anywhere with it. Which was a shame, because that was exactly the impression Malcolm got when he walked in and saw them.

"Not a word," said Rowan and George simultaneously through gritted teeth.

"Right."

"Gabby doesn't need to know," expanded George.

"Right."

"I was cutting the ropes around his wrists," explained Rowan.

"Right."

A pause, during which the cogs inside Malcolm's head worked very quickly.

"Good. I'll, uh... I'll... I'll see you outside, then."


	4. Chapter 4: Party Party Party

They had got to Nashville by the time they found the party. Although perhaps party is too small a word. Imagine a party the size of a small country. Then compress all the party spirit into a normal-sized party. And then stuff that party into a mile-long line of various caravans, campervans and Winnebagoes, which can't be good for the traffic. That is maybe a good enough comparison for the top 0.001% of you to almost understand a party half as raucous as this one.

Malcolm didn't quite understand how it had happened, which annoyed him greatly. They had just got to Vanderbilt when the party, for lack of a better word, had emerged from the surroundings sidestreets. Malcolm then remembered seeing a large dog and running to escape the party, but that was it. To the best of his knowledge, Malcolm had closed his eyes for a millisecond and opened them again to find himself lying in a darkened closet with a smug-looking teddy and a extremely light head. He could feel the room moving and hear something outside.

The moment his head was quiet enough for him to think properly, Malcolm began to do just that very quickly, checking off everything on the mental checklist he'd created for himself over the past week. He knew immediately where he was - or rather, who he was with. He had a pretty good idea why he was here - these people were always looking for new members. Now all he needed to know was how to get out. A plan. Malcolm liked that. He could do that. He was good at plans.

Malcolm's options were limited; if he could, he'd try and stop these people, but for now he'd have to keep it simple.

STEP 1: Find the others. This would be easy enough. From what Malcolm knew, these people would have been too drunk or distracted for even the smartest to suggest separating five potentially dangerous half-bloods. So the others were likely nearby.

STEP 2: Get out and away from the party. This bit would be much harder. Some of these people were notoriously vicious; the Maenads were known to rip apart Drakons. Their only hope was to be quiet and hope the party didn't notice them. Given the only reason Malcolm hadn't screamed out loud when he woke was because he knew better, he knew that wouldn't be easy. Even if they managed that, the only way out was jumping out of the moving van, with others behind them. Timing was essential. Even after that, there likelihood was someone further along would catch them again.

STEP 3: Get their bearings and continue. This was still a challenge. Yes, they'd survived for a week out here now, so finding a nearby gas station wouldn't be too difficult. But they could be anywhere. For all he knew, they might be in the middle of a desert. They might not even be in the same country. These people were unsurprisingly known to spend a lot of time in Ibiza since college students were allowed to join. If that was the case, this trip could end up lasting years.

Malcolm gingerly emerged from the closet to inspect his surroundings. Unfortunately, Malcolm had been much closer to the celebrations than he expected. Rather than being in a van or semi-trailer truck nearby, as he had suspected, he was rather surprised, although not all that confused, to find that the semi-trailer truck was the party. Or at least, part of it. Malcolm was rather overwhelmed as he looked; pensioners threw up from eating too much and toddlers threw up from drinking too much. Somewhere, music was probably playing, but the sound was almost entirely blocked out by the cacophony of slurred, out-of-tune singing. Posters adorned the wall and towards the back someone was performing an inaudible soliloquy, occasionally pressing a button to activate a beaten-up laugh track. A lady who may once have been pretty lit her dress on fire furtively. Two skinheads hugged each other shouting about the other's brilliance. A redfaced thirteen-year-old kid, all piercings and tattoos, smashed bottles against tables and attempted to carve his name into them. In fairness, not everyone there was drunk. Just the vast majority.

The first step, of course, turned out to be moderately difficult. Malcolm soon discovered the party spread out across several trucks, and had to jump across search each and every one of them. Even after that, the others were occasionally somewhat difficult to separate from the crowd. Mak had been forcibly hung upside down in a glittery jumpsuit inside Truck 13, presumably as a disco ball. George was being lynched in Truck 71 for "mispronouncing the word 'quack', the little bastard", and was more than happy to jump to another truck. Rowan was among a group of people in Truck 57 demolishing a cake the size of a large horse, and took a lot of persuading before he came with them. But Gabby was in the worst place of all. Out of maybe 100 trucks she could have been in, of course she would be in Truck 100.

This truck was very different from the others. It was smaller, and there was not party. It was more of a trailer, which had been converted into a Gothic mobile home. Gabby, unsurprisingly did not seem interested in any of this. She was standing slightly hunched over in a corner, nodding occasionally as a satyr explained something to her. It would have been an understatement to say she did not look pleased with the situation. As the hurriedly assembled group had jumped to the truck, Malcolm had heard the two inside stop talking and presumably listen. When they got into the truck, they stared.

"Ah, very good!" exclaimed the satyr. "I was just going to send Gracie here to find you!"

Gabby ignored the satyr's mistake and turned to the group. "I explained everything to them. They call themselves the Backy or something?"

"The Bacchae," growled Malcolm, hating this place more and more with every passing second. "The followers of Dionysus. The eternal party."

"Yes, yes, very good, you're as smart as Georgia says," the Satyr interrupts. "You're Malcolm, yes? I'm Alcibiades."

"Sir, you do know we were attacked by your subjects?" Malcolm enquires evenly. "And then we were shoved in boxes."

"I try not to think of them as my subjects. Dionysus is our one true master, is he not?"

"That's not the point. We were attacked and then kidnapped."

"Well, I'll make sure to... have a stern word with them. In the meantime, we have an exciting proposal for you. You're looking for a home, yes?"

"No! We're absolutely fine. We don't need a home," yelped Malcolm, panicking.

"Well, we had an idea. We noticed how you've handled yourself this past week. We were very impressed when we heard. And we lose so many followers a year because they wander off whenever we stop, and they simply can't survive without the party. So what say you teach them how to survive until we can find them, and in return you can stay until we're in LA?"

For the first time, Malcolm realized how clever Alcibiades was being. He hadn't lost control of the Party, he simply allowed it to get chaotic enough for him to control it without anybody noticing. He wasn't saying Why not stay just a few days? He was saying Stay with us or starve. He wouldn't be saying Just stay a few more days. He would be saying Stay with the party. And of course, who would suspect the bumbling little satyr of manipulating them? He couldn't tie his shoelaces. He couldn't remember Gabby's name. He certainly couldn't manipulate anybody.

Malcolm knew they should leave. So what made him stop? Was it the possibility of staying with the party? Or the look in Gabby's eyes? It's only a couple of days. We'll leave straight after.

"Excellent!" beamed Alcibiades. He saw the look in their eyes. "And now, I'll have someone show you to somewhere you can stay. Yuki, was it? Yuki?" he called. Then, as the ten-year-old girl entered, Mak screamed slightly and ran forward to hug her. And the ten-year-old girl returned the embrace. Because all anyone could hear was the same ecstatic mantra from both girls.

"I'm never letting go of you ever again. Never again. I promise."

 **I just realized I never did this so I'm hoping it's not too late;**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do no own anything by Rick Riordan. He owns all the characters, settings and events and I do not. If I did, the books would not have sold a single copy. Please don't hurt me.**


	5. Chapter 5: It's Just A Matter Of Time

"I must have been... God, six? Has it really been that long?" wonders the girl incredulously as she shows the others around.

"And that would make me roundabout four," Mak replies. "That makes sense."

"Should I be worried at how casually you said that?"

"Yoshimi, you know me too well for that to be true."

"Guys? Can we stay on topic?" Malcolm asks, seemingly the only one with any hope of that happening.

"Right. Yes. Well, four years ago me and Mak were sent into the same orphanage."

"You were in an orphanage?"

"Yeah, well... usually the Mist does a pretty good job of hiding Cyclopses. People don't notice, for better or worse. But... I got careless. There was this girl I kinda hero-worshipped. I ended up in the orphanage 'cause of her."

"And we needed each other," Yoshimi continued. "We both knew we weren't meant to be there. We didn't know why, but it was... all we knew was I'd just lost my mom and she had someone trying to find out everything about her. Not the greatest of times. But we had each other's backs. It was nice."

"So what happened?" Malcolm enquired gently.

"I ran away and didn't take Yoshimi," stated Mak bluntly. "I told her to stay safe while she still could. I didn't want her sleeping rough if she could avoid it, and the monsters would have come for her if she'd had any idea of what was going on."

"Yeah, and you did a great job at that," Yoshimi deadpanned. "My dad turned up literally in a week. It was probably the biggest twist of fate this century."

"Life'd be no fun without coincidences. Every story has to have one really big one. Lazy writing, if you ask me," commented Rowan, looking up at something. He was really beginning to annoy the writer. The writer might have to include a sudden character death.

"So your dad sent you here?" Malcolm questioned incredulously. "A six-year-old? Is that safe?"

"Safest place in the world!" replied Yoshimi. "These people literally hero-worship my dad! When they're sober enough. They can't really bend to rules to get me everything, but they wouldn't dare lay a finger on me."

"So that's it? You stay here for the rest of your life? These people are so drunk they're never sober enough to have hangovers. You want to live here?"

"They're not all drunk."

"There's other things... Do you realise what your dad's the god of?"

"Malcolm, can I just have a moment?" interjected Gabby. "Won't take long. You guys all stay here, okay? You probably have a lot to ask Yoshimi."

* * *

"Okay, tell me exactly what's wrong," ordered Gabby, the moment the two were alone.

"What? Nothing's wrong! I'm just a bit worried about Yoshimi staying here."

"That's not it. You hate this place. You hate Alcibiades. That's understandable. But we've slept in a sewer in the past week. Why are you complaining about a party?"

"I just don't like it. No big deal."

"It wouldn't be a big deal if I didn't know better. I see the way you look at Mr D. I see the way you never want to be around him. I wouldn't be surprised if you ran away to escape him. Why are you here?"

Malcolm opened his mouth to say something, realized it was stupid and closed it again. Opened, realized, closed. Until he finally sighed and asked hollowly "Do _you_ know what Dionysus is the god of?"

Gabby racked her brains for something, anything. "God of wine, madness... theatre..."

"Not just that. As a kid, Zeus hid him. Disguised him as a girl. He got very confused about what exactly he was and who he should... Be with. Which, by extension -"

"Stop. No. I am not having this conversation with you. At risk of sounding cliched, I thought you were better than this."

"I just... I want to understand it. I want to know and I don't and I don't like it. I like knowing but I don't."

"What is there to understand? Maybe you don't know everything. Deal with it. Everyone else has."

"It's never been right. Why should it be now?" he scowled.

"You know that's not true. It's always been right. People like you have been wrong."

"Not like me. Nobody's like me. Nobody's like me," whined Malcolm, cross. "I just want to know why. It's all I ask. All I want to know is why. That's it."

"Why that?" came Gabby quietly. "Why's that what you want to know?" Malcolm was silent, and Gabby sighed. "Malcolm, why do you need to understand? Some people go their whole lives never worrying about it. So why are you so desperate to understand? I know why. I'm not an idiot. I just want to help."

"No. You're wrong," Malcolm fiercely insisted. "I'm not like that. I'm not..."

"You say nobody's like you. Do you honestly think that?"

"I'm not like that," Malcolm repeated. "I'm not like that at all."

* * *

"Yeah, he'll probably want to know you're leaving. He expected you to stay for longer," Yoshimi explained. "I'll just go and ask him."

Gabby didn't say anything. If she'd had her way, they wouldn't be leaving so soon. If she'd had her way she wouldn't have to be out here in the first place. But she didn't want to leave Malcolm alone here. He needed her to help him, poor thing, and he couldn't take care of himself. He was a scholar and they were never very good at that sort of thing. She knew someone had to look after everyone. She'd just hoped it hadn't been her. Why was it always left to the girls to be the responsible one? Was it peer pressure? Or just the fact nobody else would.

Gabby was so wrapped up in that internal rant she didn't notice the high-speed drill. She looked up and realised it wasn't a high-speed drill after all, but some other sort of high-pitched whining, loud enough to make the crooning song playing in the study inaudible. She then realised it was a long, continuous whimper. And then she realised it was coming from Rowan.

"Don't look in here, guys. Don't look," whispered Yoshimi, and Gabby tried not to. She really did. But the mess wasn't really constrained to the single room. Try as she might to not look, Gabby couldn't help but notice the bloodstains. The mangled, shapeless arm sticking out across the doorway. The chunks of flesh and bone and gristle that was once a body. Quite simply, something had been torn to messy pieces too small to be identified as any one person or indeed any one organ.

"Alcibiades?" asked someone. Nobody really knew or cared who. There was the ex-body to occupy everyone's thoughts.

"Presumably yes. Not many people have access to this place. It's pretty much Alcibiades and his servants. The Ma-"

"So it was one of them."

"None of the servants could do this. I'm the only one he still hires. All the others left," Yoshimi explains, trying not to panic. "This is the sort of thing the Maenads would do."

"They could do that?"

"They've been on edge for years. One of them apparently had a few kids with Apollo, and Alcibiades just sent her away with her kids, so the Maenads are hardly... welcoming. They can't have done this any more than... five minutes ago?"

"We need to get out."

"Agreed. We left all our things in another room. Swords, food, clothes, some other stuff."

"I'll get it. See you back here."

Rowan opened the doors hurriedly. They had to get out. They had to get out. They had to get out.

Outside, hanging in a neat little row from the roof were the bloodstained wolf like bodies of ten Maenads. And looking up at them, the ghost of a frown on his face, was Yoshimi's dad, Mr D.


End file.
